


The OQ AU Project

by OperationOutlawQueen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Outlaw Queen - Freeform, Season Three AU, operation outlaw queen, oq au project
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperationOutlawQueen/pseuds/OperationOutlawQueen
Summary: Our story begins one week after the end of season three. While awaiting the final word on whether or not Emma and Henry will be remaining in Storybrooke or returning to New York, Regina, Robin, and the Charmings band together to solve a mystery threatening the very fabric of the town itself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Emma and Hook returned to the present without Marian (or Zelena masquerading as Marian)

Regina grunts as she pries open the window above the kitchen sink and considers removing the batteries from the smoke detector in the back hallway. Temporarily, at least. Until dinner is finished.

"It appears you were correct, milady," Robin says, voice raised to be heard over the alarm. "There are a _few_ differences between cooking over a gas stove versus an open fire."

Regina laughs and scoots behind him, squeezing his upper arms and planting a kiss on his cheek as she passes him at the stove. She'd been willing to go back to camp with him tonight for dinner, but he'd been excited to try out kitchen appliances for the first time when he'd met her outside City Hall with a brown paper grocery sack hunched over next to him on the bench, insisting on treating her to this land's version of a proper dinner. _A lady deserves to be wooed; even if she has no interest in being wooed_ , he'd said.

"It's okay," she says over her shoulder as she grabs the broom from the pantry. "Won't be the last time something burns in this kitchen, I assure you."

She rounds the corner and lifts the broom's handle, pressing and holding the reset button on the smoke detector until the alarm cuts off. It's overly sensitive, always has been, which is a good argument for snagging the step ladder from the closet to remove the batteries, but for now she'll leave it be.

When she walks back into the kitchen, she finds Robin fanning smoke toward the open window with a clean dish towel while smothering a new lick of flame in the sauté pan with a lid.

"Anything salvageable?"

"I'm afraid to look," Robin admits. "I'm sorry. I should have practiced before strutting in here like a complete buffoon."

Regina scoffs, pushing him gently out of the way to inspect the damage. "I doubt you can do worse than the first time I let Henry bake cookies on his own. Scorched flour and chocolate lingers."

She goes quiet then, giving their dinner an experimental poke with the spatula.

Robin sighs and mirrors her earlier movements, sliding behind her, hands rubbing her upper arms as he sits a kiss to her neck below her ear. "Still no word from Emma on whether they're staying?"

"No. But she said she'd have an answer by tomorrow."

He hums and winds his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder. "She'll come through."

Regina drags a harsh scoff from the back of her throat. "You don't know her like I do. She can be quite stubborn. Impulsive."

"She's still here. Henry's still here. That's a good sign, yeah? It's been a week since she came back through the time portal."

"I don't want to lose him again," Regina says, a slight wince crossing her face at the rawness in her voice. She's not above showing Robin a little vulnerability, revels in the fact that he's become someone she's comfortable doing so in front of, but this is new.

And yet old.

And a little confusing at times.

Robin releases another brief sigh, tightening his hold on her for a moment, and she finds herself grateful for the simple warmth of his body wrapped around hers in place of the hope-heavy promises that would spill from others' lips like weighted charges primed to explode, as promises so often do around her.

She clears her throat and gently disentangles herself from him, turning so that her hands are braced on the granite countertop behind her. "If Henry were here, he'd be begging for take out by now. We still need to eat. Have you tried Chinese food yet?" She tugs open a drawer and pulls out a battered, soy-speckled menu, holding it up between her first and second finger. "You haven't lived until you've eaten an egg roll."

"Hum, I don't believe I've had the pleasure." Robin plucks the folded paper from her hand and leans against the island, perusing the long columns of available entrees with pursed lips. "We tried pizza delivery last Thursday and they were somewhat reticent to bring our meal to the camp."

"Yes, I can see them being reluctant to do that," Regina says, cracking a smirk.

After a few seconds, Robin shrugs and shakes his head. "I've no idea what any of this is, but I trust your judgement. So long as it has those fabled eggrolls."

"Ha! I'll order my usual, then."

Regina slips her phone from her pocket and dials the bolded, serif number on the front of the menu. She swallows hard as the old woman who answers the line asks after Henry, comments on her changed order, and Regina lies through her teeth about the former and says she'll pay cash this time instead of using her card.

"Now what?" Robin asks, fingers tucked into his front pockets, thumbs hooked in the thick belt loops of his khaki Tru-Spec pants.

"Now," Regina says, tucking her hair behind her ear, "We wait."

"Shall we move somewhere a little less smoky?"

"Yes, let's do."

Regina leads him across the foyer to the formal living room, taking a moment to crouch before the fireplace and light the logs piled in the hearth. A slight chill still lingers in the rooms with exterior walls. She discards the long match, the wood snapping and crackling as the flames consume it, and brushes her fingers together, dislodging an invisible layer of ash and soot.

Robin makes himself at home on one end of the couch, arm draped casually along the back, body angled toward her and the fire. "How long does this normally take?"

"Depends on the time of day, how busy they are," Regina says, shrugging as she sits next to him, her shoulder sliding into place underneath his arm. "Tonight, about twenty minutes."

"I see. Well, how shall we occupy our time, then?"

"I can think of a few things."

"You can?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you mind?" he asks, pressing gently on her shoulder, enough to make it clear he wants her to lie back but not enough that she can't resist. "I want to see more of you."

No, no she does not mind. Regina shakes her head, shifting backward to give them more room, and then bends forward to snag his lower lip between her teeth as she fists her hands in the front of his henley, pulling him down after her.

It's been a long time since she's had someone drape her across the couch, pressing her into the cushions as warm, wet kisses pass back and forth in a lazy exchange of affection and arousal, and she intends to enjoy every second. He smells like evergreen and wood smoke, rugged and intoxicating; she breathes him in, deep inhalations between dizzying kisses until her head swims in the smell of forest and the taste of his lips.

But this can't be comfortable for him, straddling one of her legs with his right foot planted on the ground between the couch and the coffee table. He's found purchase enough to lean over her and sweep his fingers through her hair, trailing around her ear and tracing a line down the side of her neck to the open vee of her white dress shirt, following his fingers with soft, open presses of his mouth that grow more firm as he descends below her collarbone, and she stops thinking of logistics and angles to hook her right leg around his left to anchor his hips more closely to hers.

Robin groans and grinds against her once, then twice as a low moan tumbles from Regina's lips, before using nimble fingers to pop open the top button of her shirt, revealing the scalloped lace edge of her lingerie. She'd chosen neutral and rather plain today instead of a sexier cut or bold color, given the white shirt, aside from the lace edges of course, but Robin appears unaffected by the lack of detail in her clothing and more concerned with covering every square, open inch of her chest with kisses.

It's enough to have her shifting and arching against him, her fingers scratching through his hair, wandering down to ruck up the hem of his shirt and trail her nails up and down his back as he shivers under her touch.

She remembers this, every stroke of her fingers, each groan-inducing kiss, every reaction she's ever pulled from him with her lips and the touch of her skin. She remembers refusing the tender press of his lips, the slow, savoring build he prefers, in favor of biting kisses, clawing fingers, and a desperate driving need for completion. She remembers the gentleness, the _affection_ her grief soaked heart wouldn't allow her to receive.

"Wait," she says, gripping his wrist.

He freezes, fingers hooked on the zipper of her trousers, stopped midway down, breath stoppered for the moment as his eyes meet hers, wide with confusion.

Regina licks her lips and catches her breath before propping herself up on her elbow and releasing his wrist.

Robin sits back on his heel, removing his hand from her zipper and placing it on the outside of her leg, smoothing a gentle line from her knee to mid-thigh, back and forth. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Regina reassures him. "I just… I have a request."

"Name it," Robin says. "Anything."

"This might be a moot point, considering our history, but I was wondering if we could take this… slow."

Robin frowns. "This being?"

"Us. I'd like us to go slow. Together."

"We can go whatever speed you'd like, milady. You have but to say the words."

"Good. Great."

He smiles then, leans down to kiss her again, palm cradling her jaw in just that way, making her insides shiver and unravelling the tension locked in her chest like a frayed, red ribbon.

But even as his teeth graze her pulse point, gentle, so gentle with the hint of a nip at the release that tugs another thread loose, she can't help but question, "You don't want to know why?"

Robin laughs, head still buried in the crook of her neck as his breath ignites a modest flare of goosebumps across her chest. "Regina," he says, shifting himself up onto his elbow to make eye contact without one of them going cross-eyed, "It is my honor, and my privilege, to know every inch of you, from the roots of your hair to the soles of your feet, from the darkest corners of your heart to the brightest planes of your mind. You'll tell me if there's something I need to know."

Regina bites her lip and breathes for a moment. He's willing to go on without explanation, but despite the thick wall of privacy she's erected around herself, maybe here, again, another quiet, impassioned moment in front of a fireplace, she can open the gate a little wider for him. "I told you earlier that I've never had this," she says, her thumb stroking his wrist and sweeping down to tangle with the lion imprinted on his skin. "This affection, this companionship, this glimmer of a chance at happiness. And I think I'd like to savor it instead of rushing through."

"Fair enough, though I seem to remember the two of us being quite affectionate last year in the Enchanted Forest."

"That was different," Regina murmurs, lowering her gaze from his. "You knew what our relationship was and wasn't."

He nods. "I knew."

"And then we lost our memories and you were here and you were so… different and yet the same and… I'd just like to hold on to this for a while longer."

"Then that's what we'll do. We'll take it slow," he says, and tucks a kiss into the corner of her smile. "We'll enjoy each other."

Regina cradles the back of Robin's head as he gives her a proper kiss full on the mouth, and when he pulls back to nudge their noses together, she whispers, "Thank you."

"Pixie dust and prophecies be damned. I don't mind slowing to smell the roses so long as we can still have a bit of fun along the way, yeah?"

"Well it would be a shame not to, seeing as I have my heart back now," Regina says around a wicked grin as she applies gentle pressure to the back of his neck, encouraging him to dip back down, putting his neck within reach of her mouth. She nibbles at his pulse point, perhaps a little too enthusiastically as he hisses and grips the side of her hip harder, and then paints an arc of kisses up his jawline until she reaches his mouth.

His tongue sweeps against hers, and she melts into him, content to spend the rest of their night wrapped up in each other.

_Ding-dong!_

And the Chinese food.

Robin sits up halfway, frowning as he looks to the clock on the mantle. "They're a bit early, aren't they?"

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

"And a bit psychotic," Regina murmurs, rolling her eyes. "Come on. Let me up." She pats his side, already attempting to wriggle out from underneath him, but he grins, cheekily, and presses her deep into the sofa with a light kiss that builds and builds until her toes curl into the seam between the cushion and the armrest.

_Diiiiiiiiiiing-dong-ding-dong!_

Regina sucks Robin's lower lip between her teeth and then pushes back on his face, gently. "I have to go murder the delivery person now, excuse me."

Robin sighs and sits back, shifting his pants around his hips as Regina buttons her shirt back up. "At least try to save the food before you reduce them to ash, love?"

"Never fear," Regina says, leaning down to press another lingering kiss to his kiss-swollen lips. "I have my priorities straight."

She scoops the cash for the delivery off of the hall table before opening the door, a smitten smile still stretched across her face. The bell is still buzzing frantically, the incessant sing-songy chime of it enough to transform her make-out induced high into an impatient frown. "I'm coming," she shouts through the door, prepared to give the delivery person a lecture on doorbell etiquette, but the words die on her tongue when she swings the door open and she's facing an entirely different, unexpected guest.

"You are not the Chinese delivery guy."

"No, I'm not," Mary Margaret, _Snow_ , stands on her front porch, a bundle of nervous energy. Her finger still hovers over the doorbell, as if she's not sure what to do with her hand now that there's no reason to keep pushing the button like a maniac. Her other hand is wrapped tightly around the handle of Neal's baby carrier, the young prince sleeping soundly, wrapped snugly in a plush, animal print blanket, completely oblivious to what's going on around him.

"Um, you, uh…" she points briefly at Regina's chest, her eyes flicking down to follow her finger, before looking up again, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.

"Spit it out, Snow," she huffs, running out of patience with the ineffectual game of charades her former step-daughter is playing on her front porch.

"You missed a button," she mumbles, her eyes darting down again, as Regina quickly unbuttons and rebuttons her shirt correctly.

"Is everything okay here?" Robin asks, coming up behind Regina, one hand planting around the curve of her waist.

"I tried calling, but you weren't answering your phone, and Emma tried but you didn't answer her either and now I know why. We were interrupting, I'm so sorry. Though, I supposed it's only fair – you interrupted my wedding, so in comparison it's not as bad that I'm interrupting your date night or, whatever this was," she babbles, gesturing between the two of them.

"You didn't interrupt anything," she quips at Mary Margaret, reaching over and swiping her thumb quickly across Robin's lips to remove a smudge of lipstick smeared across his mouth, smiling when he presses a quick kiss to her finger.

"Really? Because it sure looked like it from what I saw when you opened the door," the younger woman snarks, shielding her eyes slightly, trying to give the two of them a bit of unnecessary privacy.

"Oh, stop it," she scolds. "There was nothing to see." She reaches out and pushes Mary Margaret's hand away from her face, and she notices for the first time the raw, panicked fear, the tears pooling in her wide eyes. "Snow, what is it? What's wrong?" Regina asks, all of the teasing and irritation bleeding away, replaced by an increasingly sinking feeling in her gut.

"It's David," she sniffles, her voice small and tight as she adjusts her hold on the baby carrier. "Something's wrong with David."

…

Leave it to the Uncharmings to attract chaos amidst the pristine calm cloaking the town post-catastrophe.

Regina blazes a path through orderlies and families at Storybrooke General, zeroing in on a red leather jacket and shock of blonde hair pacing near the end of the waiting area as Mary Margaret and Robin follow in her wake.

She hates hospitals. Or rather, this hospital in particular.

It's not so much the smell as the lighting, the way the wall-to-wall fluorescents bathe the world in stark shades of eggshell, thick bands of white stumbling into grey-green chair rails and stone blue walls, colors meant to soothe and calm the sick and injured that only serve to grate upon her nerves. The smell she barely notices.

What is antiseptic compared to a sleeping draught?

Emma's boots scuff against the linoleum as she halts, glancing up as they approach, and Regina slows her pace, her stomach clenching and shifting as she takes in Emma's wide-eyed relief to see them.

"Any news?" Mary Margaret asks, pulling her daughter into a one armed hug, Neal's baby carrier hooked in the crook of her other elbow.

"Not yet," Emma says, returning the hug delicately. "They're triaging him now."

Regina huffs, crossing her arms and suppressing a tiny shiver. "Mary Margaret said he was having some kind of memory loss."

Robin's hand wanders to the small of her back and rubs soothing lines above her waistband as Emma shrugs, and Regina leans back into his touch. Her stomach growls softly as another patient's family crosses near them, a slew of takeaway bags dangling from their hands as they file toward the small cafeteria. Robin squeezes her hip sympathetically before releasing her.

"It's not just that," Emma says. "It's like his cursed memories have taken over. He thinks he's David Nolan, that he works at the animal shelter, that he's estranged from his wife, _Kathryn_ … the whole kit and kaboodle."

"Did he say anything or remember anything on the drive over?" Mary Margaret asks, setting Neal's carrier down in the chair next to her, the handle still caught in her white-knuckled grip as the newborn prince sleeps on. "Anything at all?"

Emma shakes her head, hands thrust into the back pockets of her jeans.

Mary Margaret sits down hard next to Neal, fingers shifting to rub the sole of his footie pajama-clad foot with her thumb.

"Where's Henry?" Regina asks.

Emma hesitates. "He's with Killian."

"Oh," Regina says, outwardly calm, collected. Robin tenses next to her, shifts his stance. "Well I'm pleased to hear that on what's possibly his last night in Storybrooke, you chose to let him go galavanting off with the pirate instead of seeing his mother."

"No, it wasn't like that, it was—"

"Nolan family?" An older nurse in pale green scrubs leans over the admittance counter, searching among everyone until she makes eye contact with Mary Margaret. "The doctor is admitting your husband."

As if on cue, the baby starts fussing, his round little face stained red as he squirms against the carrier restraints, and Robin's cell phone begins jangling in the pocket of his coat.

"I should take this," he says, frowning at the caller id luminescing on the clamshell's screen.

Regina nods and then turns back to Mary Margaret as Robin walks toward a quiet corner of the room.

"Go, take care of the baby," she says, laying a tentative hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Mary Margaret asks, fingers trembling as she unlatches the clasp across Neal's chest and lifts him to her shoulder. "He's not hungry. Or maybe he is. It could just be a diaper change or the lights are too bright for him to sleep or—"

"Emma and I can handle this for now." Regina nods, glancing toward Emma, and at her cautious, but firm nod, they both follow the nurse back to the corridor of rooms. At the end of the hallway, light spills from an illuminated chamber and paints a wide rectangle on the linoleum, the only source of activity along the solemn line of closed doors.

Regina takes a steadying breath and feels Emma do the same beside her as they cross the threshold.

They have him in a private room, one that mimics the design and decor of the same room his wife gave birth in mere days ago. But he doesn't remember that, or the year that led up to that, or the decades lived before that even, if what Emma and Mary Margaret were saying is true.

He's shifting in the bed when they enter, tugging on the sheets as he settles and folds his hands in his lap.

"Madam Mayor," David says, surprise lifting his brows. "We need to stop meeting like this."

"We would if you'd change your emergency contact information," Regina snarks, tossing her scarf over the back of a chair and crossing her arms across her chest. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused. It's a hard thing to wrap your brain around, missing time."

"Da— David, we're gonna try to figure out what happened to you," Emma says, flopping into a chair next to the bed. "Can you tell us the last thing you remember?"

David sighs, fiddles with the blanket. "I was at my house, packing. Getting ready to leave town. I sat down on the couch, closed my eyes for just a minute, and when I opened them I was at Mary Margaret's place, on her loveseat. She was there, half asleep, feeding a baby and I just—I reacted badly."

"And you don't remember eating or drinking anything before that?" Regina asks, frowning. "No strange smells or bumps to the head?"

"No, nothing like that. It's like I dozed off and woke up in a completely different life." David looks helplessly to Emma. "Is the baby really mine?"

"Yeah." Emma nods miserably. "He is."

He looks to Regina. "And Mary Margaret and I are married?"

"Yes."

David flops back against the pillow. "I'm never not going to be disappointing her, am I?"

Regina holds back a snarky comment, but says, "This last year has been hard on you two," _And everyone else_ , she thinks, "But you're happy overall. I think. Or at least you were a week ago when you were holding your son on the second floor of this hospital."

"If you want, we can send them in," Emma offers, leaning forward with her elbows perched on her knees. "I know she's worried sick about you."

"Yeah," David says, resigned. "They said they're going to run tests, and they want to keep me overnight given my history. But give me a few minutes? Before you send them in?"

"Of course," Regina says. "Sheriff." She nods at Emma and retrieves her scarf, retreating into the hallway as she winds it around her neck in a loose twist, giving the two family members a chance to say goodnight.

Robin is still on the phone, pacing in front of the row of chairs they'd all gathered around, one hand scratching at the base of his skull as he barks out a quiet laugh, and Mary Margaret is nowhere to be seen. She gives her thief space, waiting for Emma to emerge from the room, left foot tapping against the linoleum.

Finally, Emma appears, but before she can head into the waiting room proper, Regina snags her arm with a firm grip and leads her into a small alcove.

"Okay, ow," Emma says, stumbling a little as Regina releases her.

"Before we go another step further, you're going to tell me why you have my son out cavorting with the one-handed wonder on his death trap of a boat."

"It wasn't like that. It's not like that. I called him after Mary Margaret called me. Henry deserves as much normalcy as possible, or do we not agree on that anymore?"

"And a night with Captain Hook is normal?" She scowls, but the bite is lacking, because she would have done the same, trying to keep Henry from being in the thick of things until they know what they're dealing with.

Still, it would have been nice to see him.

"As normal as you shacking up with Robin Hood," Emma mutters, nodding her head toward Robin's approaching form, and Regina clips the fiery retort from her tongue as he stops beside her, hand curling around her bicep and squeezing lightly before slipping into his own jacket pocket.

"Any luck?" he asks.

Emma shakes her head. "Not really."

"The last thing he remembers is the day the curse broke, and as far as he's concerned, Emma is just the sheriff and Neal is just a random name his former mistress chose for their child," Regina says, bitterness and frustration sharpening her words. "They can run all the medical tests they want, but this is magic."

"Well, if that's the case there must be a way to reverse it. It's just a matter of finding the right spell or potion, yeah?"

"Memory spells aren't really my forte, but I have some books in my vault. I'll do some research tonight and see what I can find."

Emma's phone rings, a heroic trumpeting with a snappy electric guitar in the background that immediately brings Henry to the forefront of Regina's mind, and she can't help the bit of longing that spills over onto her face as Emma apologizes and half-turns away as she answers, _Hey, kid._

Robin tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering along the curve of her neck. "Would you like some help, love?"

"No, that's okay. You should get back to Roland, it's getting late. I'm just going to be reading through dusty, old books, and I don't need an audience for that."

"That was Will on the phone just now, calling to say Roland has been tucked in and asleep for some time now. He's perfectly safe with the Merry Men," he argues, blunt nails scratching along the back of her scalp until her shoulders relax and she leans into the touch. "Besides, we haven't had any dinner yet. How about I go sort out our interrupted take away order and I meet you at your vault? I won't get in the way, I'll just keep you company and provide sustenance."

She should tell him to go home and get some rest, but it might be nice to have a bit of company, at least for a little while, and she does need to eat something. "Okay, but only if you're sure you don't mind."

"Positive. I'll see you in a bit." He leans over and gives her another kiss, and it lingers a little longer than she's normally comfortable with in front of others, but it's only Emma, she tells herself, and she's seen the pirate wrapped around her in much more provocative positions; Emma can get over it.

Even so, she's blushing when he pulls back, another smitten smile forming across her lips that she can't quite seem to wipe away despite the fact that they have an audience. She ignores Emma's fidgeting, her phone call completed, and squeezes Robin's hand as he bids them goodbye.

"You seem happy, Regina," Emma comments softly.

Regina shifts, the warmth of Robin's touch fading. "I'd be happier knowing you weren't absconding with my son in the morning."

"Obviously we're going to stay until all of this is taken care of; after that, I'm not sure."

"You promised you would have a decision by tomorrow."

"Well, then this happened."

"This incident has no bearing on whether or not you're going to try to take my son away."

"This _incident,_ as you're calling it, has everything to do with my decision! It's stuff like this – random curses, flying monsters, storybook villains, and every other weird, dangerous thing that seems to keep happening in this town – that makes me want to take _our_ son away from here!"

"Storybrooke is his home. He belongs here with his family, where we can _all_ protect him."

"I am his family."

"And so am _I_. Unless you've forgotten that I raised _our_ son for 10 years by myself when you decided you didn't want him. Those memories you have of raising him? They aren't yours, they never were. I _gave_ them to you so that the two of you would have a good life, because I thought I would never be able to see him again, but I'm the one who read him bedtime stories; I'm the one who soothed his fevers and calmed him after nightmares. He is _my_ son, and you have no right to take him from me."

"We did pretty well on our own for the last year, we can do it again."

"Do you really think that's what Henry wants, what he needs? Are you thinking about him at all? Or are you too busy thinking about what's best for you? Not that it would surprise me. That's what you seem to do best, Miss Swan."

"Hey, if I was only doing what was best for me, we wouldn't have come back in the first place! You trusted me to take care of him when you thought you would never see him again. You need to trust that I'm still going to make the right decision. Just give me time."

"You've had time. I deserve to know if you're going to take my son away. Again."

"Is there a problem here, Emma? Regina?" Mary Margaret asks, walking back into the room with a freshly changed Neal, the baby's slobbery cheek pressed to a new burp cloth with tiny grey elephants slung over her shoulder as he squirms in her arms.

"No problem," Emma says, fists clenched as she turns to her mother. "He wants to see you, when you're ready."

Regina watches as Emma stalks out of the waiting room.

_I will not cry_.

Mary Margaret walks up beside her, a swaying sashay of a gait that Regina remembers performing with Henry as a baby, and smiles as Regina takes Neal's chubby hand between two fingers and thumb and rubs softly. "I think they were planning on staying, you know. This thing, whatever it is, just has her spooked."

Regina nods and smiles briefly as she releases Neal's hand. "Then let's unspook her, for your sake and mine."

…

Robin arrives a little sooner than she expected him. She's still keyed up from her fight with Emma, residual tension still simmering under her skin despite the spray of broken glass glittering on the floor by her feet from where she tried to expel some of the excess stress.

"Love, are you alright?" Robin asks, hastily setting the plastic bags of food down at the base of the steps and rushing to her side.

"I'm fine," she grits out, flicking her wrist and instantly clearing away the shards of glass in a puff of purple smoke.

"I'm not sure that pile of, whatever that was, would agree with you right now."

She glares at him and suddenly she's reminded of bickering around counsel tables and on scouting missions, cutting remarks matched with sarcastic flirtation, and a bit of the tension eases out of her.

"Emma and I had a bit of a disagreement." She folds her arms across her chest, curling in to keep the last bit of anger itching to break free through her fingers at bay.

"Ah," he steps into her, warm palms cupping her elbows, then running soothing passes up and down her arms. "About Henry, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay, then why don't we have a bit of food and then we can get started on some reading, yeah?" He releases her from his hold, going back and plucking the bag of take away from its discarded place on the floor.

"I'm not hungry." She snips back, picking absently at a string on her jacket with her right index finger and thumb.

"I find that hard to believe, milady; it's after ten and you've had no supper. You need to eat something, love."

"How do you expect me to eat anything when that woman is threatening to take my son from me?"

Robin ignores the question and starts pulling food containers from the bag, lining them up along one of the high trunks against the wall, avoiding any of the clusters of potion ingredients scattered about. He's waiting, she knows he is. She can see it in his practiced movements, the way he snaps opens the lids to their dinner, folding back the little cardboard tabs, giving each of the various items a cursory sniff. He used to do this during their year in the Enchanted Forest, he learned quickly to read her moods, and somehow he always just _knew_ when she wasn't quite finished talking and he would just sit back and wait, like he is now. Insufferable man.

"She thinks that because she has _my_ memories of raising Henry swirling around in that blonde head of hers that she's a fit parent. Nevermind the fact that she _abandoned_ him when he was a baby to be raised by someone else because she was in jail. Oh, no. She spends one year with our family traditions, and our holidays, and _our_ history and suddenly she's a fit parent. Fit enough to take my son away from me, and I'm supposed to, what? Just sit back and let her?" She paces as she talks, her voice raising with each rattling complaint.

"No, of course not. The boy belongs here, with his family, and the people who love him. Surely Emma must see that."

"Miss Swan doesn't see a whole lot beyond what suits her." She fires back, taking a pair of chopsticks from the top of the trunk and snapping them in half.

"Regina, we both know that's unfair," he says, making a valiant effort with a pair of chopsticks, clicking them aimlessly between his fingers in an attempt to feed himself before giving it up and just stabbing a piece of chicken with the end of one of the sticks.

She watches for a moment as he continues to struggle with the wooden utensils. "Here, let me help with that," a swirl of purple smoke surrounds the wooden sticks in his fingers, clearing to reveal one of the forks from her kitchen.

She picks up a box, absently twirling noodles of lo mein around her chopsticks as she shoots him a look that's all sass and eyebrow, but he just meets her gaze for gaze. She breaks first, sighing and taking a seat beside him.

"You're right," she admits, setting the food aside.

"Parenting is a full time job, you can't just pick and choose to be around for the bits that are convenient for you. And Henry is your son, she can't just take him away from his family, from his home. Surely the boy gets some say in this as well?"

His words strike a nerve, popping her bubble of ire and deflating her like a balloon. She swallows thickly, her throat suddenly tight with gathering emotion. "I didn't even get to see him today. I already missed a whole year of his life. I can't miss anything else, Robin, I can't."

"And you won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you, Regina. You're a mother, it's part of who you are; and you're good at it." It's a simple answer, but he means it, she can hear the sincerity in his voice; it makes her swell with gratitude and affection.

"Thank you," she whispers through the tears clogging her voice, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips, hoping he won't see the moisture gathering in her eyes. But his hands sweep up and cup her jaw, thumbs swiping along the apples of her cheeks to catch the few tears that leak from her eyes.

"Henry belongs here," he says, when they break apart, his forehead still resting against hers, "with his family, and the people who love him. Emma does too. She just might need a bit more convincing."

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think that sounded vaguely like a threat." She tips her head back, giving him a watery smile.

"I have been known to threaten my fair share of stubborn royals, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, I remember your utter lack of respect, thief."

He chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, followed by a lingering one to her lips, smiling when she chases his lips for just one more before pulling back. "Now," he says, as they pull apart and he tips her chin up to meet her still slightly glassy eyes. "Why don't we have a bit of supper and then we'll see what we can do to rectify the David situation, yeah?"

"I don't think there's enough magic in the world to fix what's wrong with David, but we can probably find a way to get his memory back." She smiles, a sinister tip of sarcastic lips that pulls a deep chuckle from Robin's, before they tuck into their take away.

"Oh, and Robin?" She says as she reaches over and plucks an egg roll from the container.

"Yes, Milady?"

"Don't read anything out loud."

"Why not?"

"Trust me; you don't want to find out."

...

She hasn't been this bone tired since Henry was in diapers. Her back aches from spending hours hunched over dusty tomes and crackling parchment. Her eyes sting from the constant strain and the lack of sleep, and she's in desperate need of a shower and a tooth brush to rinse away some of the grime she's gathered while searching for answers. She sent Robin home hours ago when he started falling asleep with his face pressed to the pages of a book, only to wake himself, coughing and sputtering after taking too deep of a dusty breath.

Maybe just a few more minutes.

Something is scratching at the back of her brain; the answer is just _there_. She knows it, she can feel it in her bones, but she can't quite grasp it through the fog of exhaustion.

She's just decided to pack it up for the night, to go home and crawl under her sheets, when something in an alcove catches her eye. The heavy leather bound she'd been perusing closes with a thunk as she stands and strides across the room. Why didn't she think of this before?

Her fingers curl around the coiled stem of a pewter chalice, the one she drank a forgetting draught from so many years ago. Of course! This is the answer she's been looking for.

If she can find a way to alter the potion she used on herself – some way to reverse the effects so that instead of removing specific strains of memory it replaces them – they might be able to reverse whatever's happened to David. She slots the chalice into the holder on the top of her table, plucking various bottles and vials from their resting places inside wooden chests and stone niches.

Practiced hands measure exact amounts, a dash of this, a pour of that, until the concoction begins to bubble and breathe, a delicate silver white mist curling over the edges and spilling onto the table. It only needs one more ingredient. She reaches for the deep amber phial, it's one of the few she has made of dragon glass, the magically infused material is nearly indestructible but incredibly rare, so she only uses it for the most precious of ingredients.

Carefully, she releases the stopper, trying to prevent a single drop from spilling, but the moment the seal is released smoke starts to billow from the opening. There's a familiar look to it, onyx clouds laced with a wicked electric green and her stomach drops as the vapor fills her lungs, her eyes roll back, and she sinks to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

[Previously on the OQ AU Project: Episode 1](http://operationoutlawqueen.com/portfolio-item/episode-1/)

She wakes to a pulsing in her temple, a dull throb that brings with it a wave of nausea and the strong desire to remain perfectly still. It takes a second for her senses to stir, for her mind to catch up and recall the events that lead to her lying in an ungraceful heap on the ground, and it’s only as her fingers twitch, as she swallows a mouthful of saliva and winces that Regina can reassemble the memories in her head into some sort of order. She opens her eyes, blinks away the spots of color popping in her vision and lets out a groan.

Her limbs feel heavy as she gets up, gingerly pulling her weight onto her knees and gripping the edge of the trunk for purchase. Her eyes find the phial, contents puddling on the concrete, a neat crack in the dragon glass, and she feels her shoulders deflate. Any hope she had of fixing David with the draught she’d slaved over late last night is now seeping into the pores of the concrete and evaporating into the air.

_What the hell happened?_

Regina scans the vault, dull daylight pouring in from the stairs and she briefly wonders what time it is, how long she’s been out. It was late when Robin left, the pitch of midnight creeping into the early rays of morning, but she doesn’t think it can be all that long ago. If he awoke thinking she was still down here, he’d have left his camp and sought her out. Of that she is sure.

She swallows thickly, the sickness she’d felt upon waking ebbing away slowly, and presses the heel of her hand into the bridge of her nose, fingertips grazing her temple to find raised skin and the sticky remnants of blood. She walks to her mirror, lifts her hair and frowns as her eyes study the angry, red skin that broke when she hit the ground. She waves her hand quickly, straightens up when a small puff of smoke clouds the area and then dissolves into the air, taking the ugly evidence that anything has happened to her with it.

She turns and swipes the phial from the ground, and a frustrated huff leaves her lips as she thumbs the neat little crack that begins at the rim and travels down the length of the glass. _So much for indestructible_ , she thinks before slamming the small bottle back to where she'd so carefully taken it from when its magic had engulfed her.

Unease swells in her belly at the notion; that someone could have tampered with magic in her vault. It’s an unwelcome possibility, one that’s more likely than _un_ likely, given her past, her enemies – that particular ingredient wouldn’t have done much more than make her feel lightheaded on its own, no matter how long it had festered in its proper place, stored away where it belonged until she needed it. It strikes her as odd, that she's been out cold for god knows how long but aside from the throb in her head and the now-invisible scrape on her temple, all she has to show for it is the stiffness in her limbs and the grogginess behind her eyes. And that's more likely to do with spending the night lying on the concrete at an awkward angle than any magical consequences.

Regina screws her eyeballs shut, thinks back to the moments right before the world went black. It’s like clutching at smoke, like reaching out for something in the dark, something you know is right there but you just cannot see it. She’d had her lightbulb moment, her glorious pop of genius in the midst of all her research when she’d finally thought of something that might help Charming in his poorly-timed predicament… She’d begun to brew all the right ingredients…

She mentally goes through the list in her mind, darts her eyes around her vault to land on the bottles before they finally settle on the small amber, crack-clad phial that she’d picked up last, but all she sees is black and all she feels is frustrated. She _thinks_ something had happened when she’d popped open the stopper, but how can she blame it on the useless contents when the reason for her passing out could just as likely be that someone came in and gave her a good smack? Maybe it was Emma. Maybe the blonde decided enough was enough and gave in to her selfish impulses… Maybe she snuck up on Regina, working tirelessly through the night to save _her_ father, and struck her, hexed her, _something_ , before taking Henry against his will. But even as the scenario flits through her mind, Regina knows it’s not true.

Emma Swan is too quick to bask in the aftermath of a hero’s well done to leave her family in a crisis, smug little witch.

It's the dragon glass that gives her pause. The fracture in amber that makes her think that any explanation she could concoct wouldn’t do much to explain away the break in a nigh on indestructible material. Not even Emma is that powerful.

She doesn’t exactly feel any different, except for the fact that her shoulders feel like stone. Her surroundings don’t seem any different either, her vault looks exactly how she left it when she was here earlier in the week to try and figure out a way to defeat Zelena. Everything is exactly the same. And yet… not.

Regina shakes the anxiousness from her mind, inhales through her nose and grabs her purse. She’ll never get any answers sitting in here by herself, so she resolves to go back home, to grab a hot shower and wash the night off her skin. She’ll check in with Henry, and then go and see Robin. And _if_ anything is different, she will tell the A-team of Storybrooke what happened.

…

It is amazing what frothy soap and the stream of steaming water will do for one’s mood. Just a few short hours and two Advil later, Regina is feeling significantly fresher than she had been upon waking. It’s still early—day had only just broken when she’d emerged from the vault and made her way home, the unease in her stomach loosening a little when she’d driven past Granny’s and witnessed the early birds going about their usual morning routines; things couldn’t be _that_ different if Ruby was still scratching chalk into the specials board outside, her sour mood all too apparent in the furrow of her brow and quirk of her lips.

She’s sitting in the kitchen when the doorbell rings (planning her day in her head and neurotically checking her cell phone between sips of strong, black coffee in the hopes that Henry will get in touch) and for a second it catches her off guard. She isn’t expecting anyone, she thinks, pulling a face, but her curiosity turns into a sickening apprehension when she opens the door to Emma Swan. Her first thought is that her late-night nap on the ground of her vault isn’t as well kept a secret as she’d hoped. Her second, a thought that makes far more sense than the former, is that something in David’s condition has changed overnight.

The real reason comes so unexpectedly that you could knock her over with a feather when Emma smiles and says, “Breakfast?”

“Excuse me?” Regina replies, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes at the blonde. She takes Emma in, her hands have gone from being casually slung in her back pockets to folded into her chest, mirroring Regina’s stance. She’s on guard, Regina thinks. She looks nervous. _She has an ulterior motive._

“Breakfast,” Emma reiterates, and then sighs at the silence Regina offers in response. “I thought you and me and Henry could all have breakfast together. We wanted to talk to you about something.”

Regina feels her jaw clench, a mix of fury and dread flaring in her chest at what this ‘breakfast’ could possibly mean. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath in and reminds herself that barbecuing Emma on her front porch might not be the best way to get Henry to agree to staying in Storybrooke.

“Smart move,” she says quietly, looking down at her feet. “Get me in a public place so I don’t make a scene when you tell me that you’re taking my son back to New York?” It works for a moment, the calm, steely exterior she perfected during her years as Queen, but as she watches the Savior sigh out in exasperation, the storm of emotions raging in her heart prove too strong to hold back. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to come to my home and invite me for breakfast, as though a _meal_ will compensate for you taking my son away from me!”

“Regina—”

“No! I have had it up to here with your excuses,” she seethes, teeth gritted and face hardset, hand flying up to her temple to prove her point.

Managing to keep her voice low and steady to begin with, she carries on. “You have done nothing but judge my parenting skills since you showed up and disrupted my entire life; well, now I’m gonna return the favor, _Emma._ You can’t honestly believe taking Henry away from his family, from his _home_ is a good parenting decision?”

It’s a genuine question, because she cannot for the life of her understand where Emma is coming from in this insane choice. Regina searches her face, throat growing thicker, and she’s far too aware that her eyes are getting wetter with every word she speaks, that she’s on the edge of turning into a vicious mother bear whose cub is in danger of being snatched by hunters. If she isn’t careful, she won’t be able to hold her tongue anymore, and any promises she made to Snow last night about not spooking her daughter any further will fly out of the window. She wants to snap that Emma is being selfish, wants to scream in her face that everyone knows this decision has nothing to do with Henry’s well-being and everything to do with her eye-rolling ability to run away at the first chance of a stable home life.

Thankfully for them both, the Savior speaks before Regina can truly explode.

“I didn’t come here to have a cat fight on your front lawn, Regina,” she sighs. “If you would just let me speak you’d know why—”

“Yeah,” she scoffs back. “For breakfast. As though some stale blueberry muffin and a cold coffee from Granny’s will cut it.”

“Will you stop being so bitchy?” Emma snaps, patience clearly wearing thin. “If you’d shut up for half a second you’d know the reason I want you to come to breakfast is because we’re staying.”

Oh.

“You’re…” Regina breathes out, jaw slackened and speechless in a manner unlike her usual self. Emma raises her brows smugly, wears an expression on her face that tells Regina she’s struggling not to say she told her so; relief floods the Mayor’s veins in a second.

“Staying put. You can thank Henry’s stubbornness for the final call. Pretty sure he gets that from you.”

Her mouth twitches, a smile tugging at the corners while her heart melts because her little boy has demanded he stay here with her and not with Emma in the city. “Where is he?” she asks the blonde; right now all she wants to do is squeeze him tightly and smell the top of his head (no mean feat nowadays, she’s noticed, the past year has brought with it more than a few inches of growth for her son).

“He’s at the loft. Hopefully dragging his butt out of bed, because I told him to meet us at Granny’s at eight. He wants to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?” she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and stepping back to let Emma come in – she’s welcome in Regina’s home now that she knows she’s not about to break her heart with unwanted news.

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Emma tells her as Regina leads them into the kitchen, casually resting on the doorframe while the Queen dumps her coffee down the drain and places the mug in the dishwasher. “You wanna know, you’re gonna have to come for breakfast. Stale muffins and cold coffee be damned.”

…

The journey is a little awkward, a little strained as they make small talk that she’s sure would be cringe-worthy if anyone could see them; they’ve come a long way, sure, but they’re far from sharing secrets and braiding each other’s hair. Emma informs her that there’s no change with David, that Mary Margaret is worried sick but can’t be at the hospital as much as she’d like because of the baby. Regina feels a twinge of sorrow when she learns that, and her mind conjures up the sad image of her step-daughter quietly crying while she rocks her wailing newborn to sleep; a tiny voice in her head scolds that she should offer to look after him sometime.

The Evil Queen disagrees almost the second the thought enters her head.

She’ll make Emma do it. She’s the baby’s sister… if anyone is going to be the extra pair of hands David would usually be, it’s her.

The thought crosses her mind as they drive through the streets of Storybrooke that she should tell Emma about her blackout, about the fact she was subjected to something magical at the exact moment she was on the verge of a possible cure for David, but Regina holds her tongue. Lets silence grow thicker in the small space between them and instead casts her eyes out of the window.

There’s no point in giving Emma another thing to think she needs to save, and besides, she feels fine now. Tired, her head feels a little fuzzy, but whose wouldn’t on next to no sleep and just a few sips of coffee?

Excitement washes over Regina as they pull up outside Granny’s, a soft smile gracing her lips as they get out. Henry is sitting in the booth by the window, happily chatting away with Ruby (whose mood seems somewhat brighter than it had when Regina had driven past earlier), and Regina feels her heart swell. Her little prince is staying put, and for the first time in as long as she can remember, she’s _happy_.

...

As it turns out, breakfast is a good idea. Hot coffee accompanied by a stack of pancakes and bacon, sitting next to Henry and listening to him happily telling her all about their year apart. He jokes that she’ll tire of the stories, that there isn’t really much to tell outside of school, and even when he and Emma were at their happiest, he still longed for a bigger family (evidently, a family he didn’t know he already had). Regina tells him that he can repeat the tales over and over and she’ll never get bored.

“Hearing these things makes me feel better about not being around,” she tells him softly.

“It wasn’t your fault, Mom,” he replies with conviction in his eyes. She wants to tell him that won’t stop her feeling guilty about everything she missed, but she knows it will fall on deaf ears. Henry changes the subject somewhat before she can say anymore, anyway. “Besides, you still haven’t told _me_ what happened during the missing year.”

She chuckles and throws a knowing look Emma’s way, tells him, “There honestly isn’t that much to tell. I mostly complained that there was no electricity the whole time.” She leaves out all the chaos Zelena brought upon them. “ _Anyway,”_ she carries on, swiftly turning the subject around before he can press for more details, “Emma said the reason she dragged me here was because you wanted to ask me something?”

“Right,” Henry says, and then smiles. “Can I come home? Emma hasn’t found a place to live yet and the loft is getting kinda crowded with the new baby, and—”

“Of course you can come home!” Regina beams, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing him close to her side. “I can’t believe you thought you had to ask.”

He smiles and tells her, _Thanks Mom_ , before going back to his cinnamon covered cocoa like what he’s just asked isn’t a big deal at all, and she supposes to Henry, it probably isn’t. But to Regina… To Regina, it’s like Christmas come early. After a whole year of thinking she would never see her son again and then the shaky few weeks she was terrified Emma would take him away, he is finally going to be with her at home. Their relationship is in as good a place as it’s been for years, and as she quietly sips her coffee, finishes breakfast and asks Henry if he wants to come to the forest to meet Robin, the smile never leaves her lips.

…

There should be a certain amount of nerves that accompany the first time your boyfriend and son spend a day together; Regina is pretty sure that if her life were a movie, Henry would be surly and rude while Robin would be putting his foot in it at every other turn. Thankfully for her though, her life is not a movie. Henry is excited, babbling away as they edge through the forest to reach Robin’s camp, and she should have known this would be the case. Her soulmate has been a hero of Henry’s since he was small.

Back then it bugged her, that he admired the thief so much (particularly because she’d spent so much time trying to track him down for stealing her taxes), but now it warms her heart.

The Merry Men’s camp is busy for the early hour, she notes as they approach. Alan is busy skinning a turkey while John and Tuck fumble over building another tent; she snorts at the image, guesses they’re struggling with this realm’s appliances just as much as Robin is when she hears one of them yell, _Why are there so many bloody poles for this thing?!_

It is Will Scarlet who approaches them first, offers a warm good morning as they scan the camp for Robin or Roland.

“Alright, yeh Majesty?”

Regina can’t help the corners of her mouth tugging upwards as she spots Henry standing up straighter, puffing out his chest a little next to her. “Will,” she greets back, her purse hitting her knees as she holds it low in front of her body. “Where’s Robin?”

“Taken the little ‘un to get more firewood. ‘Supposed to drop right cold tonight.”

“Oh.”

“This your boy?” Will asks, nodding towards Henry and then offering him his hand.

“Oh! Yes. Henry this is Will Scarlet; Will, this is Henry,” Regina says, smiling as the two exchange pleasantries. She feels proud as Henry makes small talk (despite his idolisation of the Merry Men), that she’s raised such a polite young man.

She leaves the two talking, wanders over to Little John and the Friar, who are still struggling with the tent, and before making herself known, waves her hand through the air in one lazy motion. The tent disappears in a cloud of smoke—causing the two men to jump back in alarm—and then re-materialises in perfect working order.

“You looked like you were about to hurt yourselves,” she sniggers.

“Regina!” the Friar exclaims. “You gave us a fright.”

“What’s with the new tent?” she asks after smirking at his remark. She knows for a fact they have more than enough to go around, David made sure of that when they first ended up back in Storybrooke.

“We needed something a little warmer,” John tells her, standing back and admiring her handiwork. “I was told at the store this material was built to withstand the coldest of weathers so I… acquired it.” He looks embarrassed as he says it, like he’s internally cursing himself for even starting the sentence to begin with. Regina rolls her eyes, makes a mental note to go and pay the guy at the outdoor supply store when her name reaches her ears.

Her heart jumps with happiness at the sound, the smile springing easily onto her face as she turns and sees Roland bounding towards her, the little firewood he was carrying tossed on the ground. She makes haste to carry her purse on her shoulder, leaving her arms free to wrap the little boy in a big hug as he reaches her and throws his arms around her neck.

“Good morning, little guy,” she tells him when she sets him back on the ground.

“You know, Roland, when I tell you to stay put until I’ve caught up that generally doesn’t mean throw the firewood aside and run off.”

Robin’s voice sounds just to her right, and Regina chuckles as she looks up to see a faux sternness in his eyes. He greets her good morning and places a sweet kiss on her cheek, his hand brushing against the small of her back in a way that has her shivering even underneath her trench coat.

“How was your night? Any luck with a cure for David?” he asks as they wander back over to Henry and Will. Roland is in the middle of them, excitedly swinging off of their hands like a little monkey. Regina has a flash of how she woke this morning, sprawled across the concrete with no real memory of how she got there, and she’s almost positive he can see her hesitate, can see into her mind’s eye at the debacle that last night ended with. So she does what she knows will distract him from any lie she’s about to tell, and insults herself.

“Please, that would actually mean I’m helpful.”

It works. He lets go of Roland’s hand and frowns, reaches over to rub her back. “Love, you _are_ helpful. You spent the whole night slaving over your grimoires looking for a cure, and you can do no more than that. Snow and Emma wouldn’t _expect_ any more than that.”

She murmurs under her breath, _That’s what you think_ , and then swiftly changes the subject. “I have an ulterior motive in coming here.”

“Oh?”

“Can Henry stay here with you today? He spent all day yesterday with the pirate and I really think he could use a good male role model as opposed to… Hook.”

Robin laughs and tells her of course Henry can stay, though he's not entirely sure there's much difference between a pirate and a thief. She tells him that at least _he_ has integrity, and as the three reach her son, any conversation that might have sparked him quizzing her further on last night's events gets dropped.

Henry is over the moon to be spending the day with Robin (a prospect he tries his hardest not to show in front of said man, but the beam on his face lingers just a little too long for it to go unnoticed by either adult), but no one seems more thrilled at this arrangement than Roland. When he realises that Regina is going back into town but leaving Henry with them, he practically squeals with excitement. His reaction has the others laughing and Henry feeling a little smug, she's sure, and Regina can't help but feel happy for Roland that he's finally spending more than an hour with the elusive son she's been telling him about all year.

Butterflies flutter in her stomach when Robin chastely kisses her lips goodbye, a reaction that still happens despite all their history, and after making plans to go back and collect Henry at dinner time, Regina makes her way back into town.

…

Her first stop is the hospital; a quick check that David hasn't made a miraculous recovery in the hour it's been since she and Henry left Emma at Granny’s before heading over to the library. She'd agreed to meet Snow and Emma there earlier to get cracking on more research into what could possibly be the cause of David's sudden memory snafu.

Much good it does them.

The hours of the morning while away, fade into afternoon with Regina complaining that the library won’t exactly be helpful if her vault wasn’t. Emma is getting snippy with her, Mary Margaret is yammering on about how much faith she has that they will find something to help, and when the baby starts grumbling (an emotion Regina very much wants to express herself), the headache she’d left long behind this morning starts creeping back.

She sits at the table, ankles crossed over, elbows propping her up while she tries to drown out the baby’s gurgles and knead her knuckles into her temples. Her efforts to concentrate and come up with anything tangible are failing miserably, and she keeps reminding herself of Robin’s words to her this morning, that no one is expecting her pull a cure out of thin air, that they know she’s doing her best… but it doesn’t particularly ease her low self-esteem.

Mary Margaret sits opposite, an old, leather-bound potions book open in front of her (Regina is sure it belonged to Sidney at one point before she trapped him in her mirror), but the pixie-haired ray of sunshine hasn’t done much in the way of helping. She’s too busy rocking Neal in her arms. Emma is standing just behind her, brow furrowing as hard as possible as she scans a heavy, dull-looking textbook that tells the reader all about memory-loss, and Regina finds irritation building in her belly that the blonde is nose deep in a god-damn _medical journal_ rather than anything magical. Which David’s situation clearly is.

“Maybe he’s having some sort of adverse… post traumatic stress from the whole… you know… the Wicked Witch stealing my newborn thing?” Emma suggests after a while, slamming the book shut and wriggling it back between the other textbooks on the shelf.

“Don’t you think if it were anything scientific the doctors would have figured it out?” Regina snaps.

Emma sighs, plonks herself down on the spare seat next to her mother and replies, “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to think of every single possibility.”

“No, what you’re doing is thinking up the most idiotic solutions to what is clearly a magical problem.”

“Regina!” Snow scolds.

“Well! I’m the only person here who’s looking into anything worth a damn. We’re not going to find any answers looking in Black’s Anatomy whatever,” Regina glares at Emma and then darts her eyes over to Snow. “ _Or_ idly ignoring the book sitting in front of us!”

“Alright,” Emma says calmly, but firmly enough that Mary Margaret’s open mouth shuts away the retort it had been about to speak. “I’m sorry you feel we’re not being helpful, Regina. But Mom and I aren’t exactly magical experts.”

Regina feels her shoulders deflate and squeezes her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose hard, the pressure of her fingers relieving the ache in the center of her head. “I know,” she tells them quietly. “The two people that might actually be helpful right now are the two I didn’t think I’d ever want around.”

“Gold and Belle?” Emma guesses, and Regina nods sadly.

“Does _anybody_ know where they are?”

Snow shakes her head, pulls Neal from the cradle in her arms up to rest against her chest. “We asked Granny to keep an ear out for if she hears anyone say anything, but no one’s heard from them. Belle’s father never knew they were even going on a honeymoon.”

Silence falls on the three women, a hollow hopelessness going unspoken between them, and Regina wishes she wasn’t here, wasn’t with them. Longs to be in the forest with Henry and Robin, where she can’t feel any worse about herself than she already does. She needs help, can’t do this on her own, but admitting that to Emma Swan and Snow White is something she’d rather do over her dead body.

“Maybe we should just call it a day,” Snow says sadly. “I told David I’d take Neal to visit him this afternoon anyway.”

It’s the defeat in her voice that gives Regina a new resolve, and the Queen hardens her jaw, straightens her spine and tells her step-daughter, “No.”

“No?”

“No. We are not giving up. I don’t want to ever hear that tone from you again. We are going to fix this, I promise.”

She’s not sure she should be promising anything like a cure, she could never know if they’re ever going to get the old Charming back (and lest she actually admit it out loud, she found the old David far less irritating than the Storybrooke version), but in that second, as Snow gives her a watery smile, the hope in her eyes restoring, Regina knows the promise of her trying is the truest thing she’s said all day.

“Why don’t we go back to your vault? I can help you look over your grimoires while Mom goes to see Dad?” Emma suggests. The question has Regina taking pause.

She should tell them. About her blackout, about being on the verge of a cure for David. Her promise to help won’t mean anything if she’s lying to their faces about her only good lead being snatched from her mind and left to seep into the ground of her vault. She’s about to do it, takes a deep breath in and readies herself for their reaction when the door to the library yanks open, and the blinds rattle as it slams shut.

Ruby is breathless, frantic in a way that has Emma standing up.

“It’s happened again,” Red tells them.

“What?” “Who?” Voices clash in the air as they throw their questions Ruby’s way.

“Grumpy. Sneezy came to tell us just now. He… he thinks he’s Leroy again.”

The three women exchange dumbfounded looks before making their way back up to the hospital, where the dwarves had taken Grumpy, and Regina decides that telling Emma about her blackout is a problem best left unsaid.

…

The waiting room of Storybrooke General Hospital is chaos when they arrive. Six of the seven dwarves are arguing with Dr. Whale, their voices too loud for the little ears of a newborn, and within seconds Neal’s screams join all the sound polluting the air. Regina feels queasy, focuses on taking deep breaths because her headache is far from easing up; she can’t bring herself to join Emma in her attempts at calming the dwarves, or Snow in her efforts to shush the baby, so with one motion of her hand, the whole room falls silent.

Everyone looks around helplessly, horrified at the sudden loss of their voices, and the sudden quiet of the room makes Neal’s cries fade away. Regina smirks at Emma who rolls her eyes and tells Regina to give them their voices back.

“I’ll give them back if they promise to speak _quietly_ ,” she shrugs.

“They promise, Regina, give them back,” Ruby barks.

She knows it was a little dramatic, but her head is bordering on pounding, and the last thing she needs are six munchkins and the Charmings' offspring making her eardrums explode. She waves her hand again, sighs at the audible breath the room gives at having their voices returned, and Emma holds up her hands and gives one of the dwarves (Regina isn’t sure which one) a warning look, as if to say _do not start yelling again._

“Dr. Whale, can you tell us anything about Grumpy?” Snow asks, voice full of concern as she rocks her son back and forth.

Frankenstein sighs and shakes his head, tells them, “I’m afraid, it’s just like with David. Physically, he’s perfectly fine, but… he has no idea who he really is. I think he’s a little overwhelmed and confused with the way these six have been going on at him.” He glares at the men, and Regina guesses their persistence was probably the root of all the shouting she just stomped out.

“Emma, can you help?” one, asks Doc, she thinks. He steps up to the Savior with pleading eyes, and despite the fact she’s never been overly fond of Snow’s little lap dogs, Regina can’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow for the man. He looks truly upset.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma tells him quietly. “We’ve been looking all morning, Regina’s—”

“Regina?” one shouts up, and suddenly she feels on edge. The tone of his voice isn’t laced with kindness as he bites her name. “What has _she_ been helping for? She’s the one that probably did all this!”

The dwarves all yell in agreement, and Regina watches as Emma’s shoulders drop and Mary Margaret’s pretty face begins to scowl. It’s an expression she’s unused to on her step-daughter, and she supposes that while she herself is used to the nasty conclusions this town is prone to drawing on her behalf, this is probably the first time Snow has experienced the accusations when knowing without a shadow of a doubt she’s innocent.

“Sleepy! How could you say such a thing, Regina has been working tirelessly since yesterday trying to help David— _your friend_ —get better! I’m shocked at you!”

“Oh come on, Snow. You don’t really believe she’s trying to help, do you?”

“I do believe her. She has nothing to do with this.”

Emma jumps in, “Guys, I know you’re all upset but there’s no use in pointing the blame here. Regina is on our side now—”

“You said yourself you were thinking of going back to New York. How do we know this isn’t all an elaborate plan to get you to stay here, hm? Hex everyone in town and then come up with a cure so that _she_ seems like the Savior? Doesn’t it all seem a little too easy to you?”

The words sting as the dwarf says them – Happy, she thinks, and if it wasn’t such a low blow to her self-esteem she might just laugh that he’s the one with the nasty streak.

Emma, however, never gets the chance to respond, because before any of them know it, Snow is yelling in their faces.

“That is enough! I trust Regina has nothing to do with this, and if you trust me then that’s all that should matter! It’s not just Grumpy whose memory is at stake here, it’s David’s too. And if I thought for one second that Regina was the cause I certainly wouldn’t be entrusting my husband’s life with her. How many times am I going to have to tell you that she’s changed? That she’s my friend? I appreciate it isn’t easy after everything,” she says, voice getting shaky as she throws a look Regina’s way. “After everything the Evil Queen did, but _please_ believe me when I say she isn’t here anymore. The Evil Queen has been gone for a long time, and I’m sorry that you can’t see that, but… just have a little faith.”

The room stays quiet with shock, the only noise spilling in from the busy corridor outside. Everyone is looking at Snow, who’s looking at Regina, who for the first time that afternoon is focusing on something other than the pulsing in her head. She smiles at Snow, grateful for her words, but doesn’t let on how much they’ve touched her heart. She called them friends. Hm… she guesses that’s what they are now. A weird little family who have all tried to murder one another but would never let any other force touch a hair on their heads. Regina supposes it is Henry they should thank for that. For bringing them all together, for forcing them to set their differences aside, and all of a sudden she wants nothing more than to hold him close and tell him how lucky she is to have him in her life.

“I think I’m going to go and check on Henry,” Regina says quietly after a moment, breaking the tension in the room. Mary Margaret nods, smiles and tells her she’s going to see David, and she’ll call Regina in the morning.

“Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow?” Emma asks. “I’d better stay here tonight.”

Regina bobs her head, feels her body let go of a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding at the prospect of going back to Robin’s camp and forgetting all about the day she’s had. As she makes her way to the elevator, she hears Emma shout after her.

“Hey, Regina? Good job today.”

…

It still amazes Regina how comfortable she feels in the forest. How at home the firelight makes her feel and how relaxed the sounds of crickets sends her. This is what she’s most aware of later that night, as she and Henry sit with the Merry Men around their campfire, bellies full from the turkey Tuck had been plucking earlier that morning, and her headache _finally_ easing off. She feels sleepy, eyes heavy as she listens to the lazy conversation being passed back and forth. Nothing of importance, general small talk that joins the sound of those crickets, and she sighs happily as she stretches her back.

“Alright, my love?” Robin asks from beside her, nudging her shoulder with his.

She hums, nods, and then yawns. “I’m just tired,” she tells him with a laugh after throwing her hand up to her mouth in a lame effort to hide her doing something as human as yawning in front of him.

“I don’t imagine you got much sleep last night,” he reasons, and her head screams that actually, she was out like a log due to the blackout.

“Not really. I’ve had a headache all day,” she offers, the only bit of information she’ll let him glean from her night in the vault.

Robin's mouth stretches into a thin line as his brow furrows and he leans back to get a better look at her. “You ought to see someone about those headaches of yours,” he tells her softly.

“I get them when I’m stressed,” she shrugs, and then feels her shoulders relax as she finally lets down the guard she’s trained herself so well at keeping up. “I don’t think I can figure out what’s wrong with David on my own. Emma means well, but she just doesn’t know enough about magic to really help.” She keeps her voice quiet as she speaks, telling Robin all about her afternoon and how the dwarves blamed her for the whole situation, of how overwhelmed she feels and under pressure to find a cure or she’s worried Snow might think she’s holding out on them on purpose.

Robin listens intently, hums in all the right places, bites his tongue whenever she chastises herself; waits her out while she reveals everything she’s afraid of, and while it’s still relatively new to Regina, a bit nerve-wracking, this sharing your thoughts and feelings, she also finds it rather freeing.

“Regina,” he starts once she’s finished her tale; the rest of the camp oblivious to their private conversation. “I need you to hear me when I tell you that you’re not on your own with this. You’ll never _be_ on your own whilst I’m around.” He pauses for a moment, taking care to choose his words before turning as much as he can on the log to face her head on. “I understand you’re feeling overwhelmed, anybody would with the amount of pressure you put on yourself to live up to what you think Snow White expects of you, but that’s just it, love. It’s pressure you put on yourself.”

Regina lets go of a breath as Robin take her hands in his and meets his eyes as he carries on.

“I may not have known Snow long, or Emma for that matter, but I don’t believe for one second that they think you’ve had a hand in this. You’ve just said yourself that the princess stood up for you in front of the dwarves.”

“I know that,” she mumbles. “It’s just difficult sometimes. To really believe she’s forgiven me.”

“I understand that. Trust has never been an easy thing for you, has it?” It’s a rhetorical question, but she shakes her head all the same. “You’ve had a long day, Regina, anyone would feel a little beaten down after it. The difference between you and anyone else is that I know you are strong enough to overcome your fears. And if you ever doubt yourself again, you come and tell me and I shall be more than happy to tell that part of your beautiful mind to be quiet.”

Regina chuckles, leans in (despite their audience - is it an audience when no one is really paying them any attention?) and rubs her nose against his, catches his lips in a loving kiss and tells him _Thank you._ She’s about to kiss him again when Will shouts his name, pulling them from their little moment in the midst of all the noise that the Merry Men carry with them, and as Robin gets engrossed in the men’s conversation, Regina feels decidedly lighter than she had when she’d arrived.

...

“Thank you for dinner, Robin, we’ve had a wonderful time,” she tells him a while later, when the wine has been drunk and the food devoured. She inches closer to his body and hooks her arm beneath his, anything to warm herself through; it’s dropped cold in the past hour.

He leans in and presses a kiss to her temple, the sweet gesture is something she would have longed for earlier, when her headache was at its worst, and then tells her the pleasure was all his. “Henry is more than welcome to join us any day. Roland’s adored having him here to play with today. I feel he’s a bit of a novelty, you see.”

Regina chuckles, says, “I’m sure Henry feels the same about you.”

“He’s a wonderful boy, Regina. You’ve raised him so well.”

She smiles wider at that; it’s the one compliment she’ll genuinely believe. Henry is so amazingly _good_ that it’s hard to believe she had a hand in raising him at all, let alone doing it solely by herself. She should probably be coy, be modest and tell him that being well behaved is probably in his genes, with a family like the _Charming_ s. But this is Robin she’s talking to… modest isn’t something she’s ever had to be with him.

“R’gina,” a voice to her right says, pulling her attention from her little moment with her thief.

“Yes, Roland?”

“Can you do that thing like when we were at your castle?” He beams, excitedly bouncing on the log they’re all perched on.

Regina laughs, shoots Robin a look because they know instantly what he wants her to do. Henry frowns, asks her what Roland is talking about when she tells the little boy to come and sit on her lap.

“Alright, ready? You have to shout the colours out though, remember?”

Roland nods happily as he wiggles back in her lap, taps Henry’s arm repeatedly and tells him, _Watch, watch, Henry! It’s so good!_ Regina smiles at her son warmly, and then brings both hands up in front of her and Roland, beginning to softly move her wrists and call her magic to her fingertips.

“Purple!” Roland yells suddenly, and Regina shoots sparks out of her hands, turning the flames of the fire purple. Henry laughs besides her, watches the embers dance in the dark as Roland shouts more colours and Regina obliges happily, changing the flames in all kinds of patterns. Sometimes the colours start from the bottom, right at the wood and rise up, sometimes the fire just bursts into a fresh hue, and she’s reminded of all the times she and Roland would do this in her chambers in the castle. On the nights it dropped too cold for the Merry Men to say outdoors and she longed for the company of someone who didn’t see her as anything but Regina.

That had always been Roland.

Robin too, of course. But by the time she’d realised that, she’s already spied the ink in his skin, and she’d have been damned if she was going to do anything that might have had her getting closer than she thought she deserved to at the time.

She’s not sure how long they spend engrossed in the kaleidoscope of colours before Roland’s shouts get less enthusiastic and more sleepy, and after a while, Robin decides it’s time for them to retreat to bed.

“Thank you,” she tells him a while later, when goodbyes have been exchanged and Henry is sitting in her Mercedes waiting for her to get in. “For today, for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he tells her, and leans in to capture her lips with his own before she can argue back.

It’s a sweet kiss, one that’s laced with promise and anticipation, one that makes her feel warm from the hairs on her head to the tips of her toes. One that also, unfortunately for them both, cannot get more heated than a few more pecks.

The last thing she needs is Emma attempting to ban her from Henry for getting inappropriate against the car window.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright here? Will Roland? It’s cold.”

 _It’s cold_ , is somewhat of an understatement. Regina can see her breath.

“We’ll be fine. Now go. Sleep well, my love.”

She kisses him one last time, their fingers lacing together in the small space between them; the only playful action they can manage in eyesight of his camp and her son, and not for the first time that night, Regina has to remind herself that taking things slowly was _her_ idea. She hums softly against his mouth, reluctantly lets go of his hand, and climbs into the car beside Henry.

He tells her all about his day as she drives, and she nods and smiles, _ohhs_ and _ahhs_ in all the right places. When she collapses in bed later that night, Regina has never been more ready for sleep in her life.

She’ll feel so much better tomorrow.

She hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode brought to you by Hayley (htoria_xox). Check out the project website at operationoutlawqueen.com/episodes for fanart and vids associated with each chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Regina _thought_ she'd feel much better. A good night's sleep after a long stressful day usually fixes everything, doesn't it? She still felt the dull throb of her headache when she crawled out of bed. She felt as if she hadn't slept a wink at all. She watched her alarm clock chime hourly throughout the night. Usually during a sleepless night it was because she couldn't stop thinking about something, but last night Regina felt she hadn't been thinking at all. Her mind wasn't racing; she was just _tired_. So why didn't she sleep? She looked in the mirror and scrunched her nose at her reflection. She even _looked like_ she hadn't slept a wink.

Perhaps another bath would fix it. She filled the tub with warm water and suds and stripped off her pajamas. She stepped in, instantly feeling the comfort, and sat. She snoozed a little in the tub, and found that she'd slumped a little further into the water than she preferred.

At least she felt a little better when she got out of the tub. She dressed in a sensible pantsuit, foregoing the heels for flats, but still styled her hair and applied her makeup. Downstairs in the kitchen, she took two Ibuprofen, just like yesterday, and made a pot of coffee.

"You alright, Mom?" Henry's voice came from the doorway to the kitchen. "You look…tired."

"I am tired. I feel like I didn't sleep at all," she said. She sat at the table with her cup of coffee and took a sip. "And I can't get rid of this headache."

"You took something for it, right?" he asked.

Regina smiled at him. He was so good, and so kind to be concerned for her. "I did."

"I'll get myself some breakfast. Don't worry about me, Mom. Did you want anything besides coffee?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you're having."

"Even if it's just cereal?" he asked. She nodded. Anything sounded fine. Regina must've dozed off again because her eyes flew open when he put a bowl of Cheerios in front of her. "Mom. Wake up. Or go back to bed."

Regina took a sip of her coffee. She wasn't one to sleep the day away. There was work to be done, regardless of if she felt well rested or not. She had to see Robin and Roland; she had to go to the hospital and check in with Snow and David. They needed her. The entire town needed her. And she just needed to sleep. Regina sighed and sipped the coffee again and took a spoonful of Cheerios.

The problems in this town were getting out of hand. There was always something, wasn't there? Again, she thought of Robin and Roland out there in the forest – unprotected, cold. They couldn't always live outdoors could they?

"Henry," she said. "I wanted to ask your opinion. It's quite a big step but…what would you think of me asking Robin and Roland to…live with us here just for the winter?"

They wanted to take things slow – _she_ wanted to take things slow – but a brisk chill was already starting to cling to the air, and a light frost was dusting the edges of leaves.

Henry's face lit up. "I think that's a great idea. There's plenty of room here. Ask him."

Regina smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." They could use it as a trial run, a time to get to know each other better without the pressure of moving in permanently. Just for winter, she told herself. To see how things go.

"And I know how much you like having him around," he said with a grin.

Regina blushed. It was true. Part of her reasons for wanting Robin and Roland to live with them were completely selfish. Of course she wanted to keep him safe and to keep him out of the cold, but she also wanted to spend more time with him. Or was that selfish? It couldn't be wrong, not even for a reformed evil queen, to want some happiness.

"Well, I suppose I'll suggest it to him today when I see him," she said. She took another spoonful of Cheerios. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Regina was still struggling to stay awake, even though the coffee was helping a little. A little, but not nearly enough.

Regina and Henry were cleaning up their dishes when the doorbell rang. They glanced to each other. "I'll get it," she finally said. With all the weird occurrences in this town, it was best if she answered the door and faced whoever had come.

Regina opened the door. She was pleased to find that the person waiting wasn't a monster or anything that would harm them. Instead, she found Snow White waiting, fidgeting, on the front porch. She looked distraught, wringing her hands. It was as if she didn't know where to begin.

"Snow," Regina said softly. "Is David worse?"

"No, his condition hasn't changed," Snow White replied. "But now it's Ashley…or Cinderella. Thomas…Sean called her Ella and she laughed. She doesn't know she's Cinderella. She doesn't think Cinderella is even _real."_

So it had happened again. This was bad. "We have to stop this…whatever it is, before it takes over the whole town." Regina's instincts told her that this was only the first step. This was only the surface problem – everyone reverting to their cursed selves. The next step would be something darker – something that cursed versions of themselves would be powerless to stop – she was almost certain of it.

"Take Henry," Regina said. "Take Henry to Emma. Emma doesn't have a cursed self. She'll be able to protect him. I have an errand to run. I'll check in with you at the hospital later, okay?"

"Take me where?" Henry asked, appearing behind her. "I don't want to be protected and kept away from the action like a child. I want to be involved. I can help."

Regina shook her head. "You're going to the hospital with Emma. Maybe you can do research there or something. I need to go to the forest to see Robin."

Henry finally agreed and left with Snow. Regina grabbed her keys, coat, and purse from the table in the foyer and drove out to the forest to find Robin.

Her thief was sitting outside his tent with Roland, eating breakfast over a fire. He looked up when her car pulled up at the edge of the forest. She smiled at him as she walked toward him. Robin rose and met her in the middle. "Good morning, love," he said, and pecked her lips.

"Good morning." She smiled at him, still a little overwhelmed by the casual kiss. Like it was so natural to kiss her and to see her. It was rather amazing to her that after all that she'd done, Robin was here. She didn't deserve someone so wonderful and so generous. She wasn't used to this and wasn't sure she ever _would_ get used to it.

The next step was to ask him the question, but she wasn't sure how to begin. She was essentially asking him to give up his whole lifestyle for her, because she asked him to. It wasn't for completely selfish reasons – it really was getting cold out.

"I hope you slept well," she began, "And I know how you like the forest and how you're used to it..."

Robin nodded. "But…?"

"But…I have a proposition for you, of sorts." Robin waited for her to continue. She took a deep breath. "It's starting to get cold out, and I thought you might want a safe, warm place to stay for the winter."

"We've lived outside in the forest for years, even during the harshest of winters in the Enchanted Forest."

"Wouldn't you like Roland to be warm all winter, and have shelter?" she asked. "And you – wouldn't you like that?"

"It's a luxury I've never been able to afford," he said. "No matter how wonderful it sounds, I've never really thought about it." Robin took her hands. "What are you asking, then?"

"Come live with me," she said. "I have more than enough room. Plus it's getting cold out. I can't imagine that living in tents in the middle of a blizzard this winter would be comfortable – and my house is cozy—"

"Regina," he said. He frowned, and shook his head. "What about my men? What about the life we're used to. You don't have room for all of us. I couldn't leave them out here –"

"But Robin, I care about you... please?" This wasn't going as planned and now she felt as if she was failing at this, looking for reasons to convince him to agree. Her stomach rolled, her face flushed, and her hands started shaking. Why did she feel like a live wire ready to trip? Like the ground was falling out from under her and she needed to grab onto something sturdy and concrete.

"Regina," he began again. "My men can't afford places to live other than here. There aren't enough rooms at the inn…I can't leave them out here. It wouldn't be fair, as their leader, to move into your mansion and make them fend for themselves."

She was frustrated. She didn't expect it to go like this. Her heart was racing, her chest felt tight. "But what about Roland? He can't live out here in the cold!"

"He's used to living outside in tents his whole life. Roland will be fine. We'll all be fine."

"But what if this curse hits your camp? You weren't part of the original curse; it could send you back to the Enchanted Forest for all I know. Or give you some alternate identity that's _not you._ I can't lose you, Robin."

"You're not going to lose me, Regina. We'll be okay," he said.

"But…these changes – this curse, whatever it is that's making people revert – are happening more frequently. First it was David, now it's Ashley – Cinderella, and Grumpy – or Leroy. I don't know who's going to be next and I'm so scared it'll be you, or that something will happen to me, or to you." She reached for his hands. "I don't want to lose you and I want to be able to protect you, should something happen or something come."

"We'll be fine, Regina. Nothing's going to happen." His thumb brushed back and forth over her knuckles, and the tightening in her chest loosened, her stomach filled with warmth.

"You don't know that."

"But we'll face it as it comes, alright, love?" He pressed a kiss to the back of her palm.

"Just…just think about it, okay?" she said, exhaling slowly.

The thief let out a reluctant sigh. "Alright." He reached for her and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, love."

She wasn't in the mood. She was still so tired, so frustrated, so irritable. She didn't want to say things she'd regret. So she nodded and kissed him softly and sank into his arms. "I just want… I want you and Roland safe."

"I know. I know."

Their attempts at reconciliation were interrupted by Regina's cell phone ringing. She didn't want to answer. She just wanted to stay here in Robin's warm arms. Maybe she'd sleep better with him close. Another reason for frustration if he refused this offer. "I'm sorry," she said, indicating the phone that she had to answer. It was Emma.

"What is it?" she asked, perhaps a little too harshly.

She could hear Emma huff into the phone. "Hey…Regina," she began. Her voice sounded irritated. Emma thought they'd resolved their differences after the fight over Henry. "Whatever…just come to the hospital. It's urgent."

"What's going on? Did someone get hurt? Or what?"

"Just come." The call ended and Regina put the phone back in her pocket.

Regina glanced up sheepishly at Robin. "I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go. It was Emma. The hospital…"

"They need you," he said and hugged her. "Go ahead. I'll see you later. You know where to find me."

Regina nodded and frowned. "I wish I could stay here with you."

Robin kissed her. "I know. See you soon, love. The town needs you." He smiled at her, and she could tell he was proud of her. "And I'll think about what you asked."

Regina nodded, gave him one more kiss, and went back to her car. As she drove, she imagined all the things that could be going wrong now. Another person? Another stage of memory loss? Another damned thing that prevented the people of Storybrooke from leaving town? The possibilities were endless. She parked and walked in, searching frantically for Snow, Emma, or Henry.

"Regina." Emma's voice echoed down the hospital hallway. She was peeking out of an exam room. The blonde waved and Regina finally saw her.

"Who is it this time?" Regina asked, attempting to be more civil than her phone greeting. She truly was sorry about snapping at her, but now wasn't the time to beg for forgiveness or explain that she was too tired to function.

"It's Abigail…she thinks she's… well, Kathryn, and married, I mean estranged, to, from David. She's reverted to her cursed self. This is getting really scary."

Regina nodded. "Who's it going to be next? What signs do they exhibit before the change happens? Is it sudden? Or do they just wake up the next day as their cursed self? Is anyone doing research on this kind of curse?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't think anyone's noticed any kind of pattern. It just happens suddenly."

Regina felt a sudden wave of frustration and fatigue. "Well we have to figure out something," she snapped. She didn't even want to see Kathryn in this condition. Not one more person. The more people who fell under this curse, or whatever it was, the closer she was to losing family, her hold on reality.

She stayed out in the hallway, clenching her fists. She was so sick of mysterious monsters and curses hitting this town, so sick of this feeling of exhaustion. She was even annoyed with her mood swings. Hell, she was annoyed with everything that didn't involve Henry or Robin. She just wanted time to herself for once with the people she loved. And she'd upset Robin today. It was the first time they'd ever had a disagreement. She felt awful, even though they didn't part on bad terms, and he promised to think about it. She felt so guilty that they disagreed at all and she got so frustrated at him. This was so unlike _them._

She knew couples fought but she didn't like feeling frustrated at Robin. Robin was always so sweet, so kind, so supportive. She understood his reasons. But they somehow still weren't enough. Somehow she was so selfish and had to have her way. Then again, she was thinking of what was best for them. But maybe – what was best for him was to stay out there with his men, not in some luxury house he couldn't even cook in.

Regina leaned against the wall, trying to calm herself down, trying to think straight. What was the next step? She was so tired that she couldn't even begin to analyze this curse. Whatever this was. Perhaps she was next. If she couldn't think straight? And all she wanted to do was…sleep?

She slumped down the wall and sat on the floor, dizzy suddenly, and then she closed her eyes for a moment.

"Regina! Regina!"

Regina felt someone shaking her and a distant voice calling her.

"Regina, are you okay?" The voice was suddenly much closer, and Regina was able to identify it as Snow's.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had to sit down for a second."

Snow rolled her eyes and helped Regina to her feet. She knew instantly when Regina was lying. "Sit down, sure. You fell asleep on your feet, and I guess ended up on the ground."

Had she really been asleep? Regina scoffed. "I'm fine, just tired, I suppose."

"No, you're not," Snow insisted. "I'm worried about you. I've never seen you so unfocused. Did you sleep at all last night?"

Regina shook her head. "I was in bed, but I laid there for hours. And now I just want to sleep all the time." And the night before she'd slept on the floor in her vault, passed out from who knows what. Sleeping on the floor of her vault wasn't exactly comfortable.

Snow studied Regina, unconvinced by her explanation. "There's something you're not telling us. What's going on with you?"

Regina squinted her eyes shut, trying to focus. "Alright. Alright. There was some kind of magic mishap in my vault and I passed out there. I could've been hexed. I've just been trying to feel better and then figure out who messed with my dragon glass spell. It's hard when you haven't slept in two nights."

Snow nodded. "Let's get you some help."

She tried to pull away from Snow, but her efforts were weak. "I'm fine."

Snow ignored her, and led her to an exam room. Before she could protest, there were nurses there, hooking her up to machines. She wasn't sure what modern medicine could detect, except for a strange potion in her system, or the physiological effects of whatever she inhaled in her vault, or look for warning signs that compared to David, Leroy, Ashley, and Kathryn. Maybe she was next after all.

"Tell Robin..." she said. "Tell Henry what's happened…where I am. But you don't have to go into details – I don't want them to worry."

Snow nodded. "I'll make sure to call them both, Regina. Don't worry." Regina calmed and let the doctors take over.

An hour or so later, Regina was in the waiting room again, signing out at the front desk. Just as she'd thought, they'd found nothing. She was suffering from insomnia and exhaustion; what a combination. She could have told them that. Of course modern medicine couldn't detect a hex or magic.

"Milady," She heard Robin's charming voice behind her. She smiled the instant she heard it. "Snow called me and told me you were in the hospital. Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I just…fell asleep. I've been really tired lately. And I'm sorry about earlier."

He smiled and held her hand. "No need to be sorry," he said, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek. "I know why you want me to stay with you. I promised you I'd think about it. But first, let's get you home. I promised you one thing, now you promise me this. Feel better soon." Robin reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles in soothing motions.

She nodded and smiled faintly. "I'm going to try. I just need a good night's sleep, I think. I feel like I haven't…slept in days."

"You've been trying to proceed as normal even though you can't sleep well?" he asked, shaking his head.

She nodded. "I can't focus on anything, and the exhaustion is affecting my moods."

It must be a side effect of the hex, but she couldn't tell him that. She hated being dishonest, but he didn't need another reason to worry him. The truth was, being around him calmed her.

Robin kissed her again. "I'm sure they'll understand. But who do you think is doing all this?"

"I have no clue."

"You'll figure it out. You always do," he said.

Regina smiled. "You always believe in me. You always have faith in me."

He nodded. "It's what I do. It may be a soul mate thing, don't you think? To believe in each other despite everything?"

Regina gave his hand a squeeze. "I couldn't even stay mad at you for long. It made me feel so bad."

"Definitely a soul mate thing too," he said proudly. "Regina," he said. Her eyes opened again. She didn't even realize her eyes had closed. "I have kept my promise. I thought about it."

She nodded. "And?"

"How about Roland and I stay the night – to see how he likes living indoors, and we'll get to spend time together. I think they call it a sleepover in this world? Will Scarlet says he can handle the camp and if they need me, they'll call me."

Regina smiled. "That's good enough for me for now."

Robin moved to kiss her lips. "Good. It'll be nice not to have to leave you at the end of the night to go back to the camp, and to wake up by your side. That's a plus in itself."

She smiled. "I'm glad you think so too."

"Now you keep your promise, love. Get better."

Regina nodded. She hoped she could keep that promise when the time came. But what if she was the next to lose her memories? She didn't really have an alter ego, but she imagined that what was coming for her was far, far worse.

Robin walked her out to the parking lot. The problem was, the doctors recommended Regina not drive after falling asleep on her feet as she did, and Robin agreed.

"I'll drive you home, milady, don't worry," Robin assured her.

"You can drive?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you just came over from the Enchanted Forest."

"I can figure it out," Robin replied as he opened the passenger door for her. "Tell me what to…put my foot on and how to turn that wheel and I can…take us home. It's not that far."

Regina reluctantly agreed and climbed into the passenger seat. Robin rounded the car and sat in the driver seat.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said. Robin shot her a look and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, put your foot on the break – that one," she said. "And then turn the key to turn the engine on." Robin obeyed. "Alright so, change gears to drive – and let off the break."

The car moved slightly forward and Robin slammed on the breaks again. "Whoa."

She laughed. "It's okay, just let it go, and the gas will make it go faster. Obey the signs…use the turn signals. Be careful. It's only a five minute drive."

Robin let off the breaks again. "This is a one-time-thing," he said. "After this, I'm sticking to traveling on foot."

She smiled. "It's not that bad. You just need practice. And a license. Let's hope the sheriff doesn't catch you driving without one."

"Since the sheriffs are currently occupied in the hospital, I'd say we have a good shot of making it home without getting caught."

Five minutes later, Robin pulled into her driveway. He shifted to the break, turned off the engine and got out. "Never again," he said. He rounded the car and opened the door for her. "Milady, you are safely home."

She grinned, stood up, and hugged him. "Thank you, love," she said.

Robin smiled and glanced up at her big house. "I better call Little John and ask him to bring Roland here." He took her hand and led her inside. "Go rest, milady, and I'll call Little John." He went into the kitchen, and called his Merry Men. Little John didn't mind, of course, and was already on the way before Robin hung up. Roland was excited already.

Robin returned minutes later to find Regina curled up on the couch, finally asleep. He smiled, sat next to her. He wrapped his arm around her, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open again.

"He's coming over?" she asked groggily.

"Yes, love," he said. He kissed her again. "We're both staying here with you. Little John is on his way."

She smiled and shifted to lean into him, her legs curled up on the couch. "Good. I think I'll sleep better with you here."

They stayed there, wrapped in each other, until the doorbell rang. Robin reluctantly let her go, and answered the door. Little John passed sleepy Roland over to his father and bid them goodnight. The father was grateful that his son was already half asleep. He carried him up to the guest room across the hall from Henry's room and tucked him in.

"Will we have more fun tomorrow with Regina?" Roland asked.

"I hope so," Robin replied. "But Regina is really tired. We have to take it easy for a little bit."

"Goodnight Daddy," Roland said, and snuggled under the blankets.

"Goodnight," he said, and kissed his little one. He shut off the light and closed the door, and returned to Regina downstairs. She had shifted to sitting upright, though she still looked half asleep. "Shall we go up to bed then?" Robin asked.

Regina nodded. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her up to bed. He tucked her in and climbed in to her bed and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her one more time. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight."

**Author's Note:**

> This episode brought to you by Em (Lillie-Grey) and Jessie (Fiadorable). Check out the project website at operationoutlawqueen.com/episodes for fanart and vids associated with each chapter.


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